Between Shadows Ep VIII: …and Nothing Else Matters
by Scb047
Summary: After Dawn's abduction, Xander starts down a path he took long ago with Buffy, hoping to finally quiet the ghosts that have been plaguing him, and maybe finally make the last stand he wished he'd taken years ago.
1. So Close, No Matter How Far

Title: Between Shadows (Episode VIII: …and Nothing Else Matters) part 1/4

Author: Scb047 (scb047@hotmail.com)

Summary: After Dawn's abduction, Xander starts down a path he took long ago with Buffy, hoping to finally quiet the ghosts that have been plaguing him, and maybe finally make the last stand he wished he'd taken years ago. 

Distribution: Distribute away, no permission required.

Feedback: Please do.

Disclaimer: If you want to sue me, first you gotta catch me. Long live the joys of copyright infringements!!! Avenge Napster!!! We remember… 

Special thanks to Calen Hawk for the Beta Reading.

Chapter 1: So Close, No Matter How Far

Fear.

Fear binds all things, like a cosmic amoral glue, like some primeval ductape, holding the entire fabric of reality together. Human existence is confined by that relationship. We are afraid of pain, but likewise shy away from overindulgence. Our moral lines are drawn around a balance, a hope reined by fear, that we should walk a path that would not condemn us to torment. The fear of death keeps us from danger. The fear of rejection keeps us from happiness, from loving someone who could perhaps love us back if only given the chance. Fear, in all its endless spectrum, delineates the human experience. One who ceases to fear, simply ceases to live.

Fear for Xander Lavelle Harris, was a name. Fear was a face whose features were forever burned into his memory. The twisted goatish skull, shadowed by the flame surging from the left eye socket; the ocular cavities deep and pronounced under overgrown bony formations. Carnivorous, jagged teeth lining the terrible mouth; the jaw's bleached bone as white as ivory. And a smile, a smile ever present behind the terrifying demeanor; a playful yet dreadful attitude that never waned, regardless of the situation. Even in his dreams, Xander couldn't wipe that smile away, no matter how hard he tried. Even with universes between them, Asmodeus' presence was always with him. Fear, not love, made Xander's world go round.

It had been many hours since he'd hung up the phone on Asmodeus. Morning drew closer and still he could feel the Archdemon's hellish voice caressing his ears. As he remembered the words, playing the conversation over and over in his mind, Xander stared at a pair of scissors on his desk, wondering if Van Gogh had had the right idea.

"What do you want from me?" He spoke the words aloud to the bottle of Wild Turkey, imagining it answering in return.

"I want you Xander; isn't that painfully clear to you by now? Don't you know I've been waiting for you?"

"You have Dawn?"

"Yesss, or will have her shortly. Your mate is bringing her to me as we speak. I can feel her already nearing the fields of blood. A remarkable woman if you ask me. Much more interesting than your former choice." A beat, and then a snicker. "Isn't this the part where you tell me off, Xander?"

"No, no it's not."

"Good, they do say discretion is the better part of valor, but then again valor is not something you know much about, now would you, Xander?"

Xander slid his fingers around the Oerta, its round form now complete with all three pieces interlocked. The grooves were lined with dried blood of the watchers that had died protecting it. Shame was coursing his way through his system again.

"Okay, so what do I do?"

"Meet me by the Fields of Blood. Faith left a little present for you, which should make your trip possible, as it did hers. I do suspect you will want some time to put your affairs in order, so tomorrow by Midnight will do quite nicely. I have suspended time here, so you need not worry yourself about showing up here a few thousand years too late."

"Why…" fear snuck in quickly, and Xander's hands trembled as he spoke. "Why should I do this anyways? You won't let Dawn go, you'd never do that."

"No, you are absolutely right, Xander, I would never deprive myself from the pleasure of killing yet another of your dear ones, especially before your eyes… but that's hardly the question, isn't it, my friend?"

"What do you mean? What question?"

"The question Xander, is how bad I'm going to torture her if you do not come here to end her suffering. The question is what I am going to do with an interdimensional key unless somebody kills her before I open up a portal strong enough to carry my essence? …Xander? Xander? Are you still there Xander, or are you off somewhere in your mind, dreaming of me riding into this little world of yours at the head of an army?"

Broken, Xander's voice became resolved and empty, like a dead man walking his last mile. "I don't… I don't understand… why me? Why…"

"Because I want my favorite toy back, Xander. Eternity is such a bore without torturing you."

Xander hadn't let himself cry in front of his friends. He had bolted quickly to his room, leaving their questions trailing behind as he headed for his only known relief. Xander had rarely ever cried in front of others, it simply wasn't in his nature. He remembered only three times: when Joyce died, when he had been forced to kill Willow, and the day Anya died in his arms. However, he had cried many times before privately. That is why it came as a disturbing surprise that he couldn't cry this time around, no matter how much he felt he should. 

"Can you hear her scream, Xander? Can you find enjoyment in it yet?" The words were a flashback twisting in his mind from a time he had been tortured to sleep.

"Is he still in his room?" asked Katrina, as she massaged her neck in the doorway of the kitchen. She gazed at Marcus somberly pouring milk over his cereal. 

"Yep, haven't you tried to talk to him yet?"

"Yeah, last night, but he wouldn't open the door or answer. I'm a bit worried."

"Jus a bit? Dawn's gone, we don't know if she's dead or whatever, we don't even know what that freaking demon thing told Xander over the phone and you're just a bit worried?" Gabe's voice was muffled by his bruised jaw. 

"Yo, man," piped in Marcus, "Why don't you lay off a bit, you know that's not what she meant."

"Don't worry yourself, honey," said Sanaz as she laid a reassuring hand on her friend shoulder. "I was up there a minute ago and I heard him talking to himself."

Garrett's hands shook as he tried to sip his coffee. His eyes were sunken and his skin was pale. The freshly formed lines under his eyes spoke of the uneasiness of his past night's slumber. When the cup slipped from his fingers and went crashing onto the floor, all eyes turned into his direction. He seemed unresponsive, and it took him a moment to notice the cup was gone from his hand.

"G., you alright there?"

"I'm… I'm…" for the first time since they had all met him, Garrett seemed at a lost for words. "It's the voice, I can't get it out of my head. All it said was 'May I speak to Xander, please?' and I can't get it out of my mind. It's… it's so fucking horrible."

"You're telling us you're still freaked out about that?" asked Gabe, completely mystified.

"C'mon, how bad could it have been Garrett? It's just a voice," chimed in Sanaz. 

"You guys don't understand, I… I've seen all sort of demons with you guys, I've seen the bad and the ugly, and we're talking to a point where just about everyone of us almost pissed in his or her pants, and none of that, nothing, scared me as much as hearing that voice did." Garrett paused as the whole room grew quiet, reflecting on what he was saying. "They don't have a word for that kind of fear."

Suddenly, the phone's terrible bell rang out from the living room. After Xander had abruptly slammed it down last night, it had kept ringing and ringing, waiting for him to answer again, the Archdemon probably wanting to taunt him just a bit more. Gabe had wanted to pick it up, but Garrett had prevented him, his drained complexion and disturbed demeanor helping quite a bit with the convincing. They all stared at the phone now, wondering what evil crept at the other end of the receiver, trying to picture themselves having a conversation with one of the primordial forces of the universe. The thought was more than a little belittling. 

"I thought I told you to unplug that thing?" asked Sanaz, turning to her half-brother who immediately shrugged. 

"I just plugged it back in. I didn't think it'd be ringing anymore. I mean, it wasn't for the past fifteen minutes."

"Well that's it?" exclaimed Sanaz around the eight ring. She paced briskly toward the phone, her face a mask of resolve and anger. She picked up the phone and yelled into the receiver. "We get it, you're evil. Now stop calling us you sick fuck!"

"Listen, miss I don't…"

"Ooo; that's the big voice of evil! Oooo you got me shaking. Let me go get a goat so I can worship you, you jeepy creeping dark prince of evil!"

"Listen, my name's…"

"I know what you're name is you…"

"Is there anybody else there I can talk to?"

"Wait a second," said Sanaz, muffling the receiver against her breast, she turned to her friends with a confused, half-embarrassed look on her face. "Garrett, that Archdemon thingy, did it sounded British by any chance?"

"British?" interrupted Katrina as Garrett shook is head. "Dawn took a phone call from a guy name Giles yesterday. She said he had some information for--"

"—me" interrupted Xander as he came striding into the living room, unshaven and sporting bloodshot eyes. He held out his hand toward Sanaz, motioning her to give him the phone. "It's for me."

"How did you--?"

"I just do, now please give me the phone, he's an old friend."

Sanaz hesitated for a moment, and then handed him the receiver. The group gathered closer to listen in on Xander's side of the conversation.

"Giles, I had a feeling you'd call."

"Xander, is everything alright?"

"Peachy." The sarcasm was unintentional, as Xander couldn't muster the strength to lie to any decent degree. "What's up?"

Giles hesitated before answering. He sensed something horrible had happened, but he could also feel Xander would hang up the phone on him if he pried too quickly. He decided to hold off until he had finished the task at hand. "Alright then, well it's about the prophecy we've talked about before. You remember? The Shadow Prophecies of Fenkel."

"Yeah, the anti-prophecy stuff…"

Giles voice gave away his rising excitation as he approached the subject. Despite his best tries, the watcher simply couldn't contain the trepidation he felt at the topic. "We've finally managed to make sense of it Xander, and what we found is, well, it's remarkable. I can't even begin to know how to tell you this. I've been trying to call you since yesterday but…"

"Wow that's great Giles, way to go on the book reading. Listen, I'm a little busy right now, why don't we do the book club thing some other week, alright?"

"Xander, this is important; you need to know this."

"Alright, but make it fast."

"Very well, here's the condensed version Xander. To put it simply, you have no destiny Xander."

"Are you saying I'm about to die?"

"No, I'm saying you were never meant to be, never meant to accomplish anything."

"Well, thank you Giles, I'll put that opinion right next to my father's 'You were an accident' speech, and my personal favorite, 'you'll never amount to anything.'"

"You're not understanding me, Xander. How's this, the universe is written in stone. According to Fenkel, Fate, not only exists, but cannot be thwarted. It's only our perception of it that leads to situations where we might break a prophecy, which are by his definition, almost always inaccurate. Now, this is nothing new, even modern physics accept that concept with only moderate controversy. Time is not chronological but instead constant, as space is for example, but our perception of it creates that illusion."

"Sorry to remind you Giles, but the most scientific concept I have of time is that if you sling shot around the sun at warp speed you can go back in time."

"Alright then, picture a coffee cup falling and breaking apart. Now it's still the same coffee cup, but at a different point in time. Now you might see that scenario happen very often but, save from magic, you never see the pieces come back together again and form back the cup, because time doesn't reverse itself from our perspective. However, there is no difference between the coffee cup and its pieces, no more than there would be between you standing where you are now and twenty paces away. The idea is that time is a dimension, no different than space."

"So you're saying I should kill the coffee cup?"

Giles grunted in desperation "How's this then: the world is done. It's all written up, there's nothing any of us can do, save from doing the very thing we were meant to do from birth. And I'm talking about everything from big life decisions to whether or not you'll brush your teeth one particular morning. However, like I said, this isn't anything new."

"So what is?"

"According to Fenkel, this universe is only one in a multitude of Megaverse that preceded it. You see, like everything, the universe is imperfect, it has these flaws that appears mysteriously from time to time, and that goes both in space and in time. Like everything that lives or un-lives, it comes with an innate and, for a lack of a better term, subconscious desire to self-destruct. Everything in this world has a death wish to a degree, that's why the human race, for example, has such a tendency of seeking out things that are bad for it, like drugs, violence, heroism, just to name a few. In the end, we all toy with death whether we realize it or not. Anyways, not to digress further, the point is that every once in a while, quite more often than one would think, an individual is born who simply shouldn't be. That individual is left free from the hands of fate and can literally decide his own path, be it that of a beggar or of an Atilla. But one thing is certain, that person affects the paths of everyone around him, thereby warping a brand new world around the simplest of their decisions."

"What are you saying, Giles?"

"There was equation along with Fenkel's writings, it pointed out possible dates where individuals like this were likely to be born. On a hunch, I went and compared your birth date, and it matches. What I'm saying, Xander, is that you have no destiny, you never had one."

As somber as he already was, Xander's expression seemed to sink even more. "No, no you're wrong."

"Granted I could be, considering you certainly aren't the only person born on that date, but it makes perfect sense when you think about it. Of all the books of prophecy ever written, the codex is the only one that has ever been a hundred percent accurate, it prophesied that Buffy would die at the master's hands, and you went and you saved her. Over the years, I had convinced myself that her dying momentarily had fulfilled or rather tricked fate's requirements, but for the longest time, this didn't sit right with me. Why wouldn't have that been included in the writings, surely the prophet would have been able to foresee that as well. More so, there aren't any prophecies that specifically name Buffy after that event; she was supposed to die that day. Furthermore, never in the entire recorded history of the watcher's council has there been more then one slayer, nor was it ever prophesied or thought possible; you made that happened Xander. Think about it, think about all the times you showed up in the nick of time and changed everything on us. Think about what would have happened if you hadn't stood up to Angelus in the hospital, or if you hadn't ran up the tower along with Spike to prevent Doc from opening the portal. The world might be a completely different place. Think about it Xander, the two longest-lived slayers in history, and trust me they are both quite long lived, have only one common bond: you. I'd thought you'd be thrilled, Xander. This is a wonderful gift you have, beyond unique. Don't you understand that this means that—"

"—that everything that ever went wrong with my life is my fault." Xander started to chuckle nervously. "Buffy, I could have saved Buffy, and Willow, and…"

"No, Xander! You can't possibly blame yourself for that. If anything, you've extended Buffy's life beyond what it should have been."

"No, Giles. I could have saved them, if I'd been stronger!" Xander was yelling by then, his emotions totally out of control. "No, this—this means that, contrary to what my father told me over and over again, I had a choice, and I chose to become a drunken, violent looser! I wasted my life Giles! I'm a fucking failure and you just took away any illusions I had about it not being my fault!"

"Xander, I think you just want to blame yourself for something, and you're trying to make me agree with you. What's going on?" Giles waited, listening to the heavy breathing on the other end of the line as his younger friend considered his answer. 

"It's Asmodeus Giles," finally answered Xander with a sigh, "He's got Dawn."

"Dear god! But how?

"Let me put it to you this way. You wouldn't happen to have had one of your vault robbed just recently, would you? Because I got a complete Oerta in my hands right now."

"Oh my god—Faith. No, she can't be this stupid."

"Not stupid Giles, just reckless. She never could see three steps ahead."

"Xander, do you know what this means? Asmodeus has what he's been seeking for eons, a way into this world. This… I can't believe this. If what you're saying is true than all hopes have abandoned us."

"No, not yet," answered Xander gravely, "he wants me to go meet him there. He still wants me, probably needs someone to witness it all, the narcissistic son of a bitch."

"So… not all is lost." Giles spoke carefully, uncomfortable with the only possible way out of this situation, even less comfortable with bringing it up. "Xander you do realize what you…"

"I know what I have to do, Giles. Doesn't mean I'm going to do it though."

"We don't have a choice, the lives of the entire world depend on this. Listen, I'm getting on the next plane to New York, I'll be there by this evening. You wait there for me, and I'll come with you, or go alone if I must."

"No Giles, if I go, I go alone. I just might test that theory of yours. See if I really can change the world."

"Xander, what you're talking about it simply can't be done, I told you that before."

"Goodbye Giles and… I love you, man."

"Xander! Xander… !"

The phone went dead on Giles. Immediately, the watcher dialed up again, and then again when he received no answer. He kept trying, as one of his assistant booked him on the next flight to New York. Unbeknownst to Giles, his suspicion that Xander had ripped the phone from the wall, and shattered it against another, were completely accurate.

"So Giles, what's eating you… or the general south-western united state population by the look on your face?" Buffy was almost relieved to see the subtle terror on her watcher's face, she needed someone else's problem to take her mind off her own. Faith trailed only a step behind as the two slayers entered the Magic Box, Giles cleaning his glasses nervously by the counter. As Buffy sat down, Xander and Dawn came out of the training room to join the meeting. 

"I'm afraid this is isn't good, Buffy," Giles voice trembled, "the watcher's council has just dispatched me the most distressing of news."

"United lost to Liverpool?" 

"Xander! This hardly the time for jokes!" yelled Giles before calming down, "And for the record Liverpool is doing quite well this year I'll have you know." 

"Red-loving wanker," muttered Xander under his breath. Meanwhile, Giles continued on, quickly moving back toward an aura of poorly veiled terror.

"It seems the world's in danger of coming to an end once more, but this time… I'm afraid we might not be in time to stop it."

"Okay, I'll say it," volunteered Dawn after a few moments, "What do you mean, Giles?" 

"Perhaps this was not the best way…"

"Giles," interrupted Buffy, "How about you tell us what's going on first."

"Yeah," interrupted Faith, hovering around in the back of the magic shop. "If the world ends tonight, I'm planning on going out in a blaze of drugs and sex, not a boring little chat on how we might have been able to stop it." 

"Well, to put it as simply, our sources tells us Archdemon Asmodeus has found a way into this world."

"The Who? You know what, scratch that Giles, just tell me where I can find it and how to kill it?"

"Dear God Buffy, haven't you read any of the books I've been lending you?"

"You mean it's not enough to just lay them about on my desk in a fancy fashion?"

"Listen, Buffy, I've told you before about how this world began, however, I failed to mention that at the beginning were twelve demons, twelve near omnipotent beings that ruled with ruthlessness and pure cruelty. They reigned unopposed over all dimensions until the day war broke among them, and that day the PTBs used the discord among their ranks to push them out of this world and several others. These twelve demons are the Archdemons and they are as old as this world itself, their existence shrouded in the same mystery."

"So were talking major bad, here."

"I'm afraid were way past that already. We're talking about twelve incarnations of evil itself, Buffy. There is simply nothing else; they are the end of the line. And one of them, in particular, has been obsessed with coming back to this world for the last thousand years."

"That would be that Amigo-zeus guy, right?"

"Archdemon Asmodeus, lord of lust and gambling. You see, a sort of Machiavellian peace now exists in Pandemonium, that would be their home dimension, 'Hell' if you prefer to call it that, though there are several other minor hell dimensions which…"

"Giles, you're doing the rambling thing."

"Sorry. Anyway, it seems Asmodeus is not well respected among his kind, and he very much wants to remedy that, notably by capturing earth. Such a feat would elevate his position among his peers, and so, he has been busying himself in the constructing of a gateway from which to launch himself and his armies into this world. The urgency of this situation lies in that, since we have just learned it is nearing completion."

"So I say we find the gate and we destroy it."

"The problem with that scenario is that the gate lies not on our side, but on his."

"I thought that was impossible. You said you needed a anchor in this world…"

"That's what we thought, but… you have to understand, this information took us by surprise, that's why the sudden emergency. We're talking about near-omnipotent beings. Who is to say what they can do and cannot do."

"Couldn't the information be wrong?" asked Xander.

"I'm afraid we can't take that chance, and so we are left with only one alternative. We will have to go to Pandemonium and destroy the gate."

"That's sounds like a suicide mission."

"Hit and run rather—we hope—but I won't lie, there is a distinct possibility. We will have to act very discreetly, discovery will most certainly mean death."

Buffy's shoulders slumped. She stared at the floor wondering what to say next, wondering if there was anything to say at all. It was a popular question at the moment, but nobody quite shared the relief she felt, as if a weight had been lifted off her chest rather than placed. Stuck in that moment, she believed for once, she heard eternity calling her name.

The smell of sulfur hung in the air, staining everything it caressed. The wind swept the ridge, carrying away red dust into a twisted darkening gloom that lurked somewhere down deep, where Dawn's eyes couldn't follow. She scratched her scalp, wiped her forehead; the terrible heat of the place assaulted all her senses.  Dawn wasn't afraid though, not of the perverse landscape, not of its dreadful inhabitants huddling in corners like starved predators. The demons were of all kind, most much more alien than what she was use to. They seemed terrible, and she did notice the looks they were given as they passed; the foreign looking monsters had more in mind then just simple nourishment, and they would have cursed their gods, if it had been wise to, for denying them that pleasure.

She wasn't afraid, because Faith was with her. Even though she was angry at her, scared even, in its own strange way, Faith's presence was reassuring to Dawn. Faith had been like a favorite aunt growing up, taking her places where Buffy would never have allowed, doing things that would have made Buffy or any self-respecting parents go berserk. Faith was every teenager's dream mentor, and in Dawn's case, she had became not only that but a best friend when her sister was too busy with Xander or her slaying. She knew Faith wouldn't hurt her, she knew she was safe as long as long she did what she was told, maybe even if she didn't, but for some other weird reason, she didn't feel like finding out. Dawn believed that this was her chance to redeem her friend, and if she had to risk death, torture and damnation, it was a small price to pay.

Meanwhile, trailing behind just a step, the raven-haired slayer didn't utter a word, staring out instead, at the perpetual dusk that clouded the sky. She hated the place, because it felt just like home. 

"You ever get tired of betraying your friends?" Dawn's question woke Faith to a strange emotion.

"I thought I told you to be quiet."

"Hey, I'm probably going to die in the next few hours, and that's if I'm lucky. So, I'll chat your ear away if I want to, okay?"

Faith grunted and shook her head. Her tone went down a notch for a second, speaking in an unusual gentle voice. "Don't say that. You're going to be just fine."

"Yeah, maybe we can ask the guy who killed my sister what he thinks about that." If there was one thing that ticked off Dawn about the whole thing was Faith working for Asmodeus. She could forgive her friend's every sin, but this, she wasn't quite sure how to feel about yet.

"Listen," responded Faith, she sounded guilty, as if her mind had been running the same trial. "I didn't find out I was…"

"Who cares Faith? Who cares when you found out? You're not supposed to work for evil people period, not just the ones who are going to hurt my feelings. For Christ sakes Faith, you're kidnapping me, bringing me to hell, and apologizing as we go? Don't you understand how crazy this sound?"

"Listen lil' sis, nothing is going to happen to you, we just need you as bait for Xander, alright?"

"Yeah, that's much more saner Faith. 'Don't worry, I just want to kill one of your friends, not you, just the man I happen to be in love with." 

Dawn was suddenly shoved forward. Her feet unable to keep up with the sudden momentum, Dawn landed violently on a pile of jagged rocks. She pulled herself up slowly, wincing from the small cuts all over her arms. Turning around with an angry look on her face, she found Faith stepping up to her with a furious look of her own.

"What? You want to get in my face, Dawn? I'm NOT in love with Xander!"

"That's what this is about, isn't it? You can't move on, so that's your way to deal with it. I mean, it makes sense, you kill him, you don't have to worry about having feelings for him, do you?"

With rage coursing through her veins, Faith's hand was granted a life of its own, and before the slayer knew it, it was wrapped around Dawn's throat. However, it did not squeeze. Faith jerked back in horror, terrified of what she had almost done. Immediately, her hand, limp but still attached to the younger woman, was slapped away by Dawn.

"Don't you touch me!" Dawn pushed Faith as hard as she could, but it was barely enough to make the slayer tip back. "You don't have the right to touch me!"

Faith didn't react to the attack, staring away instead at something distant, away from herself and the situation she had placed them in. Faith was so tired, so fed up with life and all the crap she put herself through. She barely knew why she was here, why she was placing the one person who had never hurt her in jeopardy. Perhaps it was the voice in the back of her mind, a desire for self-destruction, calling her to a destiny that should have been hers a long time ago. Something Buffy could never take away.

"What's the point of this?"

"What?" Dawn's outrage melted away. Faith seemed so grave and defeated that to lash out at her became futile.

"What's the point, you know what I am. I'm… I'm not your sister, Dawn."

"You're not supposed to be."

"Yeah…" Faith chuckled. "I don't think Xander would agree."

"Faith, c'mon, you know Xander loves you. He might not say it, but he likes you for who you are… maybe minus the evil, but still. Can't you see that's why he keeps pushing you away…"

"Love me?" Faith's head snapped up, her eyes almost shining with some reserved type of hope. "Did he say anything to you… I mean, screw that, you're… you know what, I appreciate what you're doing Dawn, but no."

"Faith, I love you. I love you as if you were my sister and I don't want to loose you anymore than I want to loose Xander. I'm not trying to trick you. I'm not playing a game. You don't have to do this, you don't have to be evil; you are better than that."

"No—no Dawn, I'm really not…" with another nervous chuckle, Faith raised her hands at the sulfur sky, "How much proof do you need? How much blood do I need on my hands before you get it through that thick Summers' head of yours? I like this. Hell, I love this!"

"No you don't, no matter how much you want to convince everybody of it."

"You don't know me!"

"I DO KNOW YOU!" Dawn suddenly launched herself forward. Faith, expecting an attack, turned her head away, but lowered her hands, offering herself as a target. She was surprised when Dawn wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into a tight, warm and suffocating embrace. It took a moment before Faith, hesitatingly reciprocated. "You're part of a family Faith. I know it's hard for you to believe that, but I don't care. I'm not taking no for an answer here. You, me and Xander."

"Yeah, a beautifully dysfunctional family."

"So, we're not perfect! Big deal! C'mon Faith, this is what families are supposed to be like. You hurt each other, you take each other for granted, and you mess up everything in the other people's lives. You scream, you yell, you fight, but underneath it, we all love and support each other. There's no white picket fence Faith, I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but it doesn't exist. I'm not better than you are."

Faith hesitated. Her eyes were subtly hinting water as she pulled away from the hug. She still felt like fighting, like forcing Dawn to shut the hell up, making her eat her words. Faith struggled with herself, not knowing which side was which, not knowing if there were sides in the first place. In the end, there was no duality to her nature, just the pretense of one. Faith finally realized or rather came to term, with just how normal she really was.

"No—_I'm_ not better than _you_." Faith walked away a few steps and turned back, wiping the tears from her face, acting as if she wasn't crying, though she couldn't stop. "I… I just want him to love me back so bad!"

"He does—just give him time to say it." Dawn watched quietly as Faith turned back around to compose herself. When she turned back, the tears were gone, but their ghost lived on in the red tracing her eyes, and the stains on her cheeks. "What do you say we get out of here, Faith, while we still can?"

Faith said nothing, looking back at Dawn as she carefully considered her answer.


	2. Couldn't Be Much More From the Heart

Title: Between Shadows (Episode VIII: …and Nothing Else Matters) part 2/4

Author: Scb047 (scb047@hotmail.com)

Summary: After Dawn's abduction, Xander starts down a path he took long ago with Buffy, hoping to finally quiet the ghosts that have been plaguing him, and maybe finally make the last stand he wished he'd taken years ago. 

Distribution: Distribute away, no permission required.

Feedback: Please do.

Disclaimer: If you want to sue me, first you gotta catch me. Long live the joys of copyright infringements!!! Avenge Napster!!! We remember… 

Special thanks to Calen Hawk for the Beta Reading.

*** Author's note: Because I have found it impossible to convey melody through simple text, I've been forced to deviate slightly from my original course, which was to have Xander sing an original song in the following scene. Given that, I've been reduced to pillage a song by a famous band, which for the purpose of this alternate universe, have died in a horrible plane crash sometime before the production of this single. Therefore the said song is now the sole property of Xander Harris rather fertile imagination. You should also be warned that the lyrics have been changed slightly to better fit our anti-hero's situation. Proper credits for this amazing song by this wonderful group, shall be given at the end of this part, not that I believe any introductions shall be needed.***

Chapter two: Couldn't Be Much More From the Heart

The "Jagged Razor" was quiet, but not unusually so for that time of day. The bright afternoon sun snuck through the spray-can painted windows, revealing the disturbing world of underground musicians. Hangover city, as that time of day was called, was between the two pm opening, and six pm happy hour, and only die hard regulars roamed the place, people whose blood alcohol were locked at a precise, constant level. Fixed like woodwork and clocks, ticking always to the same reliable drunken melody, spurting out blurbs and old arguments at predetermined intervals. Most of them looked as green as the walls, its paint slowly chipping, revealing thin white boards underneath. The bar in its entirety was a succession of small rooms, which were oddly out of level with one another. 

Normally, hopeful bands would have been on the stage, practicing for their big gig later that night, but not today. If they were lucky, that gig might earn them enough praise from a disinterested crowd to last a lifetime. The memories would endure long after the group would inevitably break up over the creative differences of sleeping with the bassman's slut girlfriend, and that was certainly something to look forward to. That day however, it happened the lead singer's much too precocious heroine addiction was getting in the way of practice, and the near empty bar grooved instead to the sound of a local FM station.

Suddenly, sunlight tore through the place like metal through flesh, the outline of a man standing in the doorway, a precious shield to the bartender's eyes. With a whine the door closed behind the man as he moved up to the bar. His pace was slow and uncertain; he even stopped for a moment to take in a deep breath. The smell of cigarette. The hint of marijuana. He'd been away from this place far too long. 

"Xander," said the bartender without much intonation, "you're not looking too good there. You're not high on something I hope, I thought you didn't touch the stuff."

"Oh I touch, I touch pretty much anything I can get my hands on. Come to think of it, that's probably the story of my life." Xander stopped for a moment as he carefully observed his pale reflection in the bar's mirror. "Get me a drink would you, Sal? Anything."

The substance had a greenish color and a taste to match, but Xander ordered another one before Sal ever had time to ask him to pay for the first. "We haven't seen much of you lately. What have you been up to pal? Ladies keepin' you busy?"

Xander's chuckle was a disturbing response, and Sal suddenly noticed just how different the young man seemed from just a few months back. "Oh, you have no idea."

"So how about you tell me about it?"

"No," answered Xander, finishing his second glass, "no, I don't think so Sal. I think I'd rather just…" Xander leaned back on his stool to peer at the empty stage, "actually, I was wondering if I could, you know, maybe get on stage, since nobody's using it."

"Sure. You want to play for free, go for it. I've been loosing business since you've stopped coming here."

The feel of the guitar, the string trembling under his fingers, felt just about as right as Xander could feel at the moment. Sorting out his feelings with logic and words, as with most people, wasn't exactly Xander's cup of tea. It was much easier for him to just pour it out on "Betsy", Giles' acoustic guitar he'd given to Xander shortly after his return from hell, shortly after Buffy's death. Buffy. The name made Xander stop and consider his sanity for a moment. The name was a dagger in the neck, his heart much too black and cold, to feel the pain of a stab. 

Xander was frozen for a moment, staring at the pine neck of his instrument. He'd never realized it before today, but that's why Giles had given it to him. It was a precious instrument of salvation, a veiled therapeutic gift that had probably saved him from himself, allowed him over time to escape the violence and the pain. It was all back now, and Xander couldn't help but picture Faith as the words came to him.

"How long how long will I slide 

Separate my side I don't 

I don't believe it's bad 

Slit my throat 

It's all I ever 

"I heard your voice through a photograph 

I thought it up it brought up the past 

Once you know you can never go back 

I've got to take it on the other side 

"Centuries are what it meant to me 

A cemetery where I married the thief 

Stranger things could never change my mind 

I've got to take it on the other side 

Take it on the other side 

Take it on 

Take it on 

"How long how long will I slide 

Separate my side I don't 

I don't believe it's bad 

Slit my throat 

It's all I ever 

"Pour my life into a paper cup 

The ashtray's full and I'm spillin' my guts 

She wants to know am I still a slut 

I've got to take it on the other side 

"Scarlet starlet and she's in my bed 

A candidate for my soul mate bled 

Push the trigger and pull the thread 

I've got to take it on the other side 

Take it on the other side 

Take it on 

Take it on 

"How long how long will I slide 

Separate my side I don't 

I don't believe it's bad 

Slit my throat 

It's all I ever 

"Turn me on take me for a hard ride 

Burn me out leave me on the other side 

I yell and tell it that 

It's not my friend 

I tear it down I tear it down 

And then it's born again 

"How long how long will I slide 

Separate my side I don't 

I don't believe it's bad 

Slit my throat 

It's all I ever 

"How long I don't believe it's bad 

Slit my throat 

It's all I ever"

The last words escaped his mouth and still Xander could picture her, uncertain what fire was consuming him. The near empty room still echoed with his emotions, and he couldn't shake a feeling of dryness in his mouth. He thirsted for solace. He burned for another drink, his body strangely numb, as if it were trying to catch up with his heart. Nor peace nor resolve came over him, and instead the successive clapping of a pair of hands broke the silence in which he had momentarily sought to find refuge.

"That was amazing, kid." Xander's eyes traveled up the hand that was extended in front of him to finally rest upon a middle-aged man dressed in a gray suit. Friendly eyes stared back at Xander, but suspicious, he didn't move to shake the stranger's hand. "The name's Gullberg. I work for Virgin Records. You heard of us, I hope."

"Yeah…" Xander answered absent-mindedly. "Oh… I'm Xander… Xander Harris."

"I know, the bartender told me," answer Gullberg as he took a moment to evaluate Xander. "I was down here waiting around to see a prospective band play, "Flying Bastard Monkey" you ever heard of them?"

"God I hope not."

Gullberg chuckled before continuing on, "Yeah, I know. Well the point is I was waiting around and then you showed up. I'm going to make this simple kid, I was just listening to you and—Wow! I mean, I see dozens of bands every week, and most of them are kids bitching about how their girlfriends left them or something. But you, you're something fresh. You sound like you've lived a bit; know what I mean?"

"Excuse me," interrupted Xander, suddenly intrigued, "but what exactly are you telling me, here?"

"I'm saying I'm sitting across the room watching you play, and I'm seeing just one color, and it's Platinum."

"You got to be fucking kidding me," answered Xander dumbfounded.

"No, I'm dead serious. You got a voice and a hell of strumming hand, but it's not just the music. The clothes, the scar, the attitude. You're already a rock star, and the best thing is, you're not fake. You're the real deal!."

"Wait," said Xander, suddenly feeling his heart palpitating, "are you saying…"

"I'm saying I want you in a recording studio by the end of this week, I want you to record a demo. We're going to find you some guys, a drummer, a bassist, get you to meet some people, work with them, see what you can come up with. If it's half as good as what I heard today, you got yourself a recording contract, Xander."

Xander suddenly chuckled, "this can't be real. You want to sign me? No way, I don't have what it takes, I'm just a—"

"You're just the best thing I've seen in the last ten years. You sign with me, and I'll make you a superstar. What do you say?"

"What do I say?" exclaimed Xander, completely swept by the moment. The expression on his face was of a million dollar winner. Suddenly, the worthless no-good son of Mr. Harris was special. Suddenly success was knocking on his door. He could already picture himself, coming back home to rub his fame in his parents face, in the face of all the kids that had made fun of him in high school. "I say hell y… hell" The word "hell" coming from his mouth halted his speech like a brick wall. Suddenly, images of a crowd shouting his name in admiration were replaced by that of Dawn and Faith, scurrying along the edge of the Styx. Suddenly, Xander grew pale again, as the excitation faded to resolve.

"I'm sorry what was that?"

"I… I'm sorry Mr. Gullberg, but I don't think I'm going…"

"Are you kidding me, son? Most people would sell their soul for this."

"I know, it's just… it's complicated."

"I'm not sure you're getting me though. I'm talking about a three album deal, at the least."

"I understand, Mr. Gullberg, it's just…I'm not sure I'm interested."

"Well," shrugged Gullberg, "if you ever change you're mind, and trust me you should, call me." The executive placed his card in Xander's hand, and disappeared slowly the way he came, his head shaking in disappointment. Xander didn't see him leave though, as his eyes were squarely fixed on the card. His finger traced carefully the lines of the raised font, but the blackness of the letters and all the dark thoughts it could have conjured was lost on him. Instead, it was the white paper that had his attention, mocking in all its purity. Mocking White. Blank like a slate he would never get, wiped away like all the dreams he could almost grasp. Blank like the ashes of his innocence, blowing away in the hot wind of a place he always knew it would see again. 

Ashes stung Faith eyes as she stood motionless before the wicked wind, or perhaps it was just an excuse she gave herself for eventually turning away. Dawn watched her quietly, knowing what debate was raging inside her friend. She ran her tongue across her dry lips as she tried again to come up with some magnificent speech that would give that final nudge to Faith's somewhat timid conscience. 

"Why don't I both save you some time," the terrifying voice needed little introduction, but Dawn and Faith both gasped when they turned toward its point of origin. In all their lives, in all the descriptions, they could never have imagined the terrifying image standing seven feet tall. Instantly, they jerked back, Faith even loosing her footing and finding herself scurrying backward a few more feet. Dawn would have run if she herself had not been seized with panic, she would have jumped off the cliff, would have used Faith as a human shield, anything to get away from the monstrosity standing a few paces from her. But no distance would ever have sufficed, no wall thick enough, or slayer strong enough to reassure Dawn she would ever be safe again. "I know, quite terrifying aren't I? What, no snappy comeback? I suppose I should have expected that the resemblance to your sister, Mrs. Summers, would have ended with that precious blood those monks created you from."

The silence could not have been more deafening. Slowly, Faith managed to get back on her feet, regaining her nerve somewhat faster than her friend. Gone were the tears, and back was the tough girl attitude. "So," she stopped a moment to swallow, "you're the Asmodeus guy."

"Yes, I'm the Asmodeus guy," the archdemon answered with a grin, "and as I was saying, let me save you both some time. Mrs. Summers was about to say 'Faith, please, this isn't the time for an emotional debate. Trust me, please, just trust me,'" For a moment, the voice coming from the dreadful mouth was Dawn's, and Asmodeus paused only for a beat before imitating Faith's own. "And I believe Faith's response would have been 'Alright, lil sis', let's get the hell out of here.' I have to say Faith, I'm sorely disappointed, I would have hoped you could come up with something more interesting than a tiresome unimaginative pun."

The two women exchanged a shocked look as they realized, it was exactly what they had been preparing themselves to say. They drew back yet again as the archdemon took a few step forward. "Godhood," offered Asmodeus as explanation for his precognition, "you should try it sometime."

"Alright, so what now?" asked Faith defiantly, or at least trying to be defiant, the fear in her voice taking away from her fierceness.

"Now, you follow me to the Styx. This way." His arm was outstretched toward a slope that hadn't been there a few moments before. Suddenly, the Styx that had been hours from them, far beyond their horizon, was a mere five minutes away. 

"What if we…" started Faith before being cut off.

"Refuse?" finished Asmodeus before scoffing, "Pleaassse. I am a god. Follow me." The considerable command in his voice was not the reason both women promptly followed. Suddenly their bodies weren't theirs to control, or at least, it was as if their legs had grew will of their own. 

"Faith?" asked Dawn terrified.

"'Don't worry Dawny,'" answered Asmodeus before Faith could even think about reacting, "'just wait until I make my move, then make a break for it.' Oh wait, that's right, you were the one who was suppose to whisper that." Asmodeus' laugh was like a thousand screaming lamb. "Though, while we're on the subject, perhaps it would be best if you tried now."

"What?" answered Dawn, completely confused.

"To escape of course. To do what you've been debating doing ever since you've seen me. To give in to that primal urge to abandon Faith, which in all rights you should. She's where she belongs now, and I certainly mean her no harm. Go. Escape. Fly little bird, use those precious wings of yours."

"Dawn," interrupted Faith, almost breathless, "I don't know what he's talking about, but if you can escape do it. Do it now, Dawn!"

"But I can't leave you…"

"Do it!" yelled Faith as loud as she could. Dawn shook as she stared at her friend. Conflicted and filled with disbelief, Dawn couldn't choose, but terror has a way of breaking a tie. And suddenly, before Faith's eyes, Dawn simply vanished. 

"Full of surprise, isn't she?" Asmodeus grin was as terrible as he was.

"Fear?" asked Buffy with a confused expression.

"Yes," answered Giles, "I'm afraid some have gone mad just from watching drawings, representation of what an archdemon is reported to look like. It is said that anyone who's been so unlucky as to gaze upon such a beast, has carried the vision for the rest of their usually very short lives. These beings just naturally project a sense of pure dread, as if they were made of that very fabric."

"So what, do I close my eyes while I fight it?" asked Buffy in her usually light humorous approach. The joke however failed to registered with a particularly tense Giles.

"No Buffy, you seem to have completely misunderstood what I've been trying desperately to make you understand. You don't fight this thing, the very concept of fighting it is absurd. You see this thing, and by God you run, hoping it hasn't notice you."

"Ah c'mon Giles…"

"Buffy, don't doubt my judgment on this. Of all things, do not disregard this one directive, do not engage that creature."

"So," interrupted Xander, biting into an apple. "This is purely a stealth mission, we take out the target, unseen, unheard."

"You don't do anything Xander," replied Giles, wiping the sweat from his forehead, "Buffy will go alone, she'll have less chances of being detected that way."

"Wait a minute, G-man, but I, for probably the first time since we all been doing the Scooby thing, am probably better suited for this than Buffy. I mean, special force here, I think I got the stealth thing down."

"You're not going Xander, it's too—" started Buffy.

"Oh no," Xander shook his head, "we're not having this discussion again. Especially not since I've been spending the last year kicking ass and taking names."

"Xander," pleaded Buffy in her softest tone, "I know you can handle yourself, but you heard Giles, this isn't something you can help me defeat. As dangerous as you are, Xand, I'm a slayer, you're not. What chances would you have against it if I can't handle it?"

"I know, it's just… you know what, save it. You're not going in there without me, and that's final. Where you go, I go. Especially if it's a quasi-suicidal mission."

"Hey," interjected Faith from the window's ledge where she had been sitting. Staring at her dark reflection in the glass, she was sickened by Xander's chivalrous display of affection. "Why don't I go. I mean, I'm the logical choice, given the circumstance."

"What? What do you mean circumstances?" demanded Giles. Faith proceeded to jumped down from the ledge before proceeding toward the group. She took notice of Buffy's angry gaze, trying to silently command her to silence. 

"I mean B. might not be in the best of fighting shape."

"Shut up, Faith!"

"What do you mean?" asked Xander suddenly confused.

"I mean…" Faith stopped as Buffy's eyes suddenly screamed one word: Please. For one moment, the raven-haired slayer deliberated, not sure what was the right thing to do, nor if she'd want to follow that course. Was the right thing to do to tell them all about the baby, assuring that the pregnant slayer wouldn't be allowed to risk her life, assuring she wouldn't bring Faith's Boy Toy along for the martyrdom ride. Faith wanted that very much, even if it meant she might be the one who'd have to die. At least Buffy wouldn't steal the show for once. At least, if she could never have Buffy's perfect life, she might get the chance to have the perfect death. On the other hand though, was the nagging sense of loyalty and the debt she felt she owed her fellow slayer for having put up with her thus far. "Do this for me," seemed to say Buffy's eyes "and all will truly be forgiven,". 

"I mean, about the engagement and all," recovered Faith somewhat gauchely, but no one seemed to notice in the wake of the bittersweet news.

"She knows?" asked Xander, turning toward Buffy.

"Yeah, I told her while we were on patrol," answered Buffy in what was probably the best lying tone she'd ever taken, "I know you wanted us to tell everyone at once, but I couldn't help myself. I was so excited." 

"Excited about what?" demanded Dawn with a smile. She felt palpitation as she anticipated the obvious.

"Earlier tonight, Xander asked me to marry me—huh, I mean him. Marry him. Hence the diamondy goodness of the ring on my finger."

"Oh my god! Buffy!" exclaimed Dawn as she rushed to her sister side to contemplate the jewel. Giles, for himself, was more restrained in his enthusiasm, wiping away his glasses with a sigh. 

"I believe congratulation are in order," spoke Giles in a tired voice, "though the circumstances are hardly joyful."

"And that's what I'm saying I should be the one to go," chimed in Faith, not giving up on that particular part of the plan.   

"I'm afraid that's unfortunately out of the question," replied Giles before Buffy could protest, "not that I haven't, that we haven't come to trust you again Faith, but given your prior propensity for evil, there's no telling what influence hell's forces might have on you, how they might twist your perspective. It unfortunately makes you too unreliable for this mission, despite we need someone to guard the portal we'll be creating, as some things will no doubt attempt to escape."

"Sucks to be bad." Faith gave up reluctantly, quickly moving back to the window after throwing Buffy a disapproving look.

"Good. We're all agreed then," stated Xander, "Me and Buffy enter the Valley of Blood through the Kattimich Pass where our entrance won't be detected. We follow the Styx until we encounter the portal gate, we blow it up, run the hell back home. No time for sight seeing. The rest of you guys make sure we have a way back by the time we get there. Total time thirty minutes. Anybody has any questions?"

"Yeah," asked Dawn, raising her hand, "if we have a portal opened, isn't there a chance the archdemon thing might use it to sneak in?"

"No," answered Giles, "we're opening a low energy portal, it takes something considerably more powerful to transport something the likes of a god."

"One thing Giles," asked Buffy, "in case we don't have a choice, I mean if he's literally standing between us and the exit, is there anything we can use, any weaknesses we might exploit?"

Another sigh and Giles turned toward the table. After hesitating for one more moment, Giles then pulled away a cloth revealing an oddly shaped sword. Its curved edge made it somewhat resemble a katana, though the craftsmanship seemed oddly inhuman. The black pummel was carved out of the bone of a foreign beast, and pictured hundred of finely detailed bodies, writing in pain, death and decay. Giles pulled the blade from its scabbard, revealing the total blackness of it. It seemed as if light itself was absorbed by it.

"I was debating whether to give you this. I was afraid that if I did, you might be more inclined to use it."

"What is it Giles?"

"This is a darkblade, the weapon of choice of noble demons, a caste set apart from the rest. This one was recovered from something referred to in my writing as a demon knight. It's the only the council ever recovered, the only one of its kind."

"Cool. What does it do?" With a light swipe of the wrist, Giles answered all of Buffy's question, the blade slashing through a nearby column as if it had been made of butter.

"It'll cut through practically anything. Demons can't regenerate the wounds it causes, at least not as fast. Save from this blade, Asmodeus will most likely be impervious to your attacks, but Buffy, again you cannot hope to defeat a creature of--" 

"Can't win—got it. Now give me the shiny weapon of death. Pretty please."

**** For those who haven't guessed it, the song plagiarized by Xander (though without his knowledge I assure youJ ) is none other than "Otherside" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. The verse "marry the sea" was changed to "married the thief" to better reflect Faith's influence on Xander.******* 


End file.
